She Wasn't Alone
by Bren Gail
Summary: As they stood in front of her beloved's grave, Nell found comfort that she wasn't alone. Neither Nell or Callen were alone, because they had the other. She was his light and he was her dark knight in blue jeans. A story of grieving, healing, forgiving, and finding love during a tragedy. Nell/Callen. Previous Nell/Mike. Contains dark themes and possible triggers.
1. Chapter One

_Disclaim...disclaim...disclaim...neither the characters or NCIS: Los Angeles are mine...if they were, Mike Renko would have survived and guest starred twice a season...or better yet there would have been a spin-off created, NCIS: Insert Your City, that starred Renko as the Senior Agent in Charge..._

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**She Wasn't Alone**

The cold smooth stone only reminded her of the man that lay beneath; it was surrounded within a group of similarity, yet it stood solid and solitary. She felt underdressed in her dark denim jeans, simple short sleeved yellow shirt, and lime green converse shoes. Her hair was limp, still slightly wet from her morning shower. She knew that he could care less about what she wore, how she looked, and suddenly she felt a combination of devastation and foolishness. She clenched her hazel eyes closed and pressed her lips together as she hugged her torso. She could see him in her mind's eye; his smile crooked, his thick dark hair contrasting with his beautiful, sparkling blue eyes, and she could hear him making a wise crack about preferring her without any clothing. He was a charming smart ass, but he had been her charming smart ass.

A wounded sound caught in her throat as she felt her throat constrict and lungs burn. He was dead. The man who had taught her how to live, how to love with her whole heart, how it was okay to sometimes lose control was gone. The man that had promised to return to her, that after his next Operation which she would find out was the Point Blank Gun Range, he would transfer to the Los Angeles Field Office, to accept the promotion to lead his own Field Team.

Special Agent Mike Renko had been a liar and she a fool. A fool, because she understood the dangers of his job, yet she believed that he was different, that he was indestructible, that he was Super Man. She saw the dangers of his job everyday; she had never watched him take on those dangers until that day a couple of weeks ago, the day an expert Undercover Operative was reduced to a casualty, a cruel chess move. He had died, because of a pointless grudge at the hand of an international psychotic terrorist. He hadn't died in the line of duty, per se, he had been ambushed by a sniper as he flirted with Kensi after everyone thought that The Point Blank Gun Range was secured, safe. Oh, how wrong they had been.

She tightened her arms around her mid-section and bowed her head as the tears flowed down her face. It was hard to breathe, it legitimately hurt to inhale and exhale. It hurt to remember all of the good times together. It hurt to remember reality, that this wasn't some nightmare, that he wouldn't ever come home, that he would never again hug her, kiss her, smirk at her, tell her that he loved her. It simply hurt. It wasn't fair. It wasn't right. She wanted her Mike back. She wanted revenge. She wanted closure. She wanted acknowledgment, verification.

"Why?" She choked, the sound of her voice raw and strangled. "Why Mike? It wasn't supposed to happen." She growled. "We were supposed to be happy." She sobbed as her knees buckled and she fell to the ground, landing on her knees, her torso slightly bent inward, her palms flat on the dirt, the barely there grass that had yet to grow back since the grave was only two weeks old. "You prom," Her voice cracked, and the word promise broke to match her heart, "Ised me a happy ever after," She pounded the ground with the sides of her fists. "Not this," She whined as she continued to pound the ground. "Never ever this."

She lurched forward and her forearms landed against the hard ground. She rested her forehead against her closed, clenched fists. She forced herself to breath; every breath she took was deliberate, because she felt the hyperventilation. She felt her lungs losing oxygen. The brief thought that she wanted to die, to join her love on the other side had crossed her mind several times since the final word, since Hetty had confirmed that Agent Mike Renko had died. But Nell knew, she had known in her heart when she saw him fall to the ground, that when it was discovered that he had been shot by a sniper, she had known that her Mike was gone, it had taken everything within her to not cry out, to not lose control in Ops. She had held unto the thin belief that he could survive the attack, but she knew the belief was flimsy at best.

That day had been two weeks ago, so much had happened, and yet it felt like yesterday when their mutual friend, Nate Getz, had first introduced them. It had been May of 2009, she had been a twenty-year-old recent college graduate visiting a family friend, he a thirty-five-year old Federal Agent, Navy veteran, former cop. She had been charmed and enthralled from the time she saw him; he had made her a believer of love at first sight. She had done her best to ignore him, because after all, that was what she did, what she had always done when she liked a guy, but he was relentless and she a push-over.

"I miss you," She whispered and began to sob harder. She began coughing as she sobbed harder and harder. Her whole body shook at the ferocity of her heartbreak, her despair. She had held it together as long as she had, because if she lost control, she feared she would never again regain it. Now that she had lost control, she feared she would never want to be again in control again. What she failed to realize was that she was not alone, that she did not have to grieve alone.

Several minutes later, she was choking for air, essentially being strangled by her grief. She felt a soft touch on her left shoulder and she flinched. She felt as if she had somehow dishonored Mike by being caught at his final resting place.

No one, but Nate, had known that Mike and Nell had even known each other, let alone in love with the other. How did she explain her presence at his grave? How did she explain that she had lost the one person who knew her best of all?

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_**Thank you for reading. Next part comng soon. **_

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_**On Another Note,**_

_**Are you a Criminal Minds fan as well as a NCIS: Los Angeles one? Ever read fanfiction for Criminal Minds? Did you know that the nominations have started for the Profiler's Choice Criminal Minds FanFic Awards over in the Criminal Minds category on the forum, Chit Chat On Author's Corner? Help choose the best of the best of the Criminal Minds stories on this lovely website. Let your voice be heard, check out the nomination ballot and rules at the Chit Chat on Author's Corner Forum. All rules and information are on the forum.**_

_**- Bren Gail**_


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

Neither spoke for several minutes, because neither knew what to say; no matter what was said, it would not change the fact that their Special Agent, Mike Renko was gone. She stared mutely, melancholy, and mutinously at the gravestone. She braced herself firmer on the ground with her hands as her fingers dug into the dirt, and the patches of fake grass that would be there until the real grass had a chance to regrow on the new grave.

Nell was the one to break the silence. She had decided that she did not want to explain her presence, the true reasoning why she had been caught grieving at the Special Agent's grave. Although, she did not want to explain, she started to give a weak, vague explanation, because she felt as if he would want one. "Callen," She said, knowing whom it was behind her without looking. She felt his presence, knew his presence, had learned it just as she had the rest of the team's in the last two years with the OSP. "It breaks my heart," She whispered. She closed her eyes and continued vaguely, attempting to come off as detached, "He didn't deserve what happened to him. He had..."

"Nell, don't." He interrupted her recognizing what she was doing. He stated gruffly from his crouched position, his feet firmly on the ground, behind her, "Don't pretend, not with me."

"Pretend?" She repeated then swallowed in distaste as her stomach clenched. She was nauseous. She had come to the conclusion that the stress and grief over the past few weeks had made her body sick. Every morning and sometimes throughout the day since Mike's death she vomited or dry heaved. It was becoming an issue, because both Eric and Hetty had started questioning whether she was okay. The rest of the team, being out in the field for the most part, had yet to witness her bolt from the Operations Center to the nearest restroom.

As she replayed what Callen said and how he had said it, she opened her eyes in realization. Her mouth opened in shock, before she closed it, because after a moment of consideration, it did not shock her. After all, Mike himself had once told her that he considered Callen, his first NCIS partner to be a big brother, his best friend. "You know."

"Yes," He replied then swallowed. "I know." His voice became rougher and rawer. "I'm sorry, Nell." He shuddered as he fought for a breath. "I should have protected him. If," He exhaled loudly; the breath that he had inhaled had been shaky and strangling. "If I could, I'd go back and take his place. I should have done more so that he would come home to you..."

Her spine went rigid and her eyes hardened. Slowly, she raised from her position, so that her back was straight, her knees still on the ground, in an almost kneeling position. She interrupted him, "Callen," She said as she turned toward him. The rest of what she had wanted to say was left unspoken. She blinked at the sight of tears flowing down his face, his blue eyes clearer than she had ever seen them and yet the most haunted. The pieces of her broken heart cracked at the sight of his anguish. She sobbed and wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a cheek against his. Seeing his anguish pushed her further into her own grief. She knew that this tragedy was real, but seeing her own pain in someone else's eyes, specifically his, made it even more real. He was _always _in control, even more so than she, and seeing him vulnerable made her feel as if it were acceptable for her to be, too.

He wrapped his arms around her and their embrace became a lifeline for the other. His knees fell to the ground as he tightened his hold around the grieving younger woman. He slid his cheek across hers, their tears mingling, matching grief to grief. As he talked and breathed, his lips moved against her right ear, the warm air made her involuntarily shudder. She sobbed as he continued to apologize to her. "I'm sorry." He repeated the apology over and over as new tears continued to fall from both of their eyes.

She moved her arms so that she was no longer halfway strangling him. Her arms wrapped around his arms and her hands clasped behind his back. She slid her cheek across his, the stubble on his jaw scratched and reddened her alabaster skin, until her lips were a centimeter away from his ear.

"It...wasn't...your...fault," She whispered raspily in between sobs, though a part of her _did _blame him. She blamed herself. She blamed the entire team. She blamed Granger. She blamed Mike, himself. She blamed Marcel Janvier. She blamed Callen for not killing the monster when he had the chance, but she knew that vocalizing and confirming that blame, would neither make Mike materialize or help Callen come to terms with what happened. She hated being the smart one, the logical one, because even when her heart hurt, and did it ever, her mind analyzed and rationalized.

"Yes, it was." He growled against the sensitive skin of her neck. She shuddered in response. He reminded forcefully, "I said, don't pretend with me..."

"Callen," She tried to interrupt, but was unsuccessful.

The grip his arms had around her tightened. He shook his head making his lips run across the bare skin of her neck and upper parts of her collar bone, causing gooseflesh in their wake. She felt a jolt of physical awareness that made her feel dirty, as if she was desecrating both Mike's memory and resting place. She shook the awareness off though the gooseflesh lingered on her skin. "No...Nell. Janvier went after Mike, because of me." His voice was raw, rough, and broken unaware of her reaction, her thoughts. "He knew." He stated, his mouth dry. He closed his eyes. "He knew that I loved Mike. He knew that Mike mattered to me in a way that Sam never has."

"Shh," She whispered, her heart breaking even more so. She experienced so many emotions she felt confused, overwhelmed. However, if she was certain of one thing it was the love she felt for Mike. She vocalized that love into a heartbreaking declaration. "I loved him, too, so very much."

Neither spoke for several moments as they alternated between heavy breathing, cries, and sobs.

Callen broke the silence with a confession, "He loved you so much, you know?" She nodded in reply, but froze when she heard him continue, revealing something about Mike that she had not known, "He came to see me before his last Op started..."

She leaned back away from the embrace, though did not pull away from it. She interrupted him, "What? You knew about the Gun Range?"

"No," He answered truthfully, his voice raw. "He couldn't give me specifics, but he told me that when the Op was over he was..." He paused, now uncertain whether he should have started to tell her, because it could cause her more pain.

"What, Callen?" She asked, her voice exhibiting the desperation and exhaustion she felt. "What was he going to do?" She asked the more elaborate question, but when Callen looked away toward the gravestone, she stated, "I know that he was going to take the position at the L.A. Field Office."

He shuddered and swallowed. His blue eyes met her haunted hazel and he asked, his voice thick with emotion and regret, "Did he tell you why?"

"He was tired of Vance pestering him to take the promotion to lead his own team." She replied, her brow furrowing as an uneasy feeling of apprehension trailed down her spine. "That wasn't the reason, was it?"

"Maybe, but it wasn't the only reason." He answered, but added slowly to gauge her reaction, afraid that she would bolt and she was in no shape to drive in this current state or especially the state that she would be in once she heard the revelation, "He asked me to be his best man, Nell. He was going to propose to you."

"What?" She shrieked in guilt over the fact that for one millisecond she felt happy then in anger and grief that he was gone. Then all of a sudden, she felt disbelief and went into denial. She pulled away from the embrace, jumped to her feet, and went to run to her car, but was prevented from doing so by the gentle grasp of her elbow. He had jumped to his feet when she had. "No," She stated angrily as she tried to pull her elbow from Callen's right hand, but his grip was too strong. "Callen, he wasn't." She whispered as she glanced at the grave. "We never," Her gaze snapped to Callen's and she continued just as softly as the whisper before, "_Ever _talked about the future where it concerned our relationship, we didn't have expectations of the other, except that at the end of the day, when he wasn't undercover, he would come home to me, as would I. We weren't exclusive, well I made the decision to be exclusive to him, but he was a player that enjoyed the game, the chase..."

"Nell," He interrupted her. "Listen to me," He demanded harshly. "Mike was never unfaithful to you."

"Come on, Callen," She spat, angry at him for denying it, and angry at herself for wanting to believe him. "Stop it. I appreciate what you're doing, trying to do, but I'm being realistic. He's gone. I love him. He loved me, but he's gone. You telling me that he was going to propose is sweet and awfully considerate of you to try to give me something to latch unto, but seriously, Callen. I am younger than you both, but that doesn't mean that I'm a fanciful child."

"Are you done?" Callen asked, angered by the lack of faith she had in Mike, and by the lack of faith in him to tell her the truth.

"No, I'm not..." She answered, but was prevented from continuing.

"I don't care whether you aren't," Callen interrupted. What he said made Nell flinch, but she understood his harshness, his cruelty when she heard what he continued to say, not giving her a chance to interrupt him even though she did try, "Mike loved you more than anything. He changed for you. Did he flirt with other women?" He glared at her when she tried to interrupt, to answer his question, but he answered immediately, "He sure in the hell did, but he _never_ cheated on you. He refused to do that to you."

"Callen," She whispered, but was silenced when Callen continued to make revelations about Mike.

Callen asked angrily, "Did you know that he compromised _two _of his Operations in the last _six _months alone, because he refused to sleep with another woman for the sake of the Operation? No, you didn't." He paused, his upper lip curled in distaste. "Your lack of faith in him makes me sick."

"Callen," She sobbed, sharing his displeasure and distaste in her over her doubt. "I know he loved me, but why? He could have had anyone, but he chose me?" She began to hyperventilate, but she continued speaking making it harder to breathe. "He loved Kensi, Callen. Beautiful bombshell, Kensi. He settled for me, Geeky little Nell."

"No, Mike did not _settle _for you. You are beautiful and he loved _you_." He retorted vehemently. "Breathe, Nell." He demanded when he saw her struggling for breath. "Breathe with me. Breathe...in... and...out...in..." He kept repeating in and out and breathing with Nell. Once Nell's breaths became more regulated, he sighed and confessed,"I remember when he first talked about you, I could tell he was in love. It was the first time I had seen him since my shooting. He had returned from a deep Op that involved a militia group and he need the team's help in apprehending them, because it was much bigger than the one man job that Mike specialized in." Callen reminisced as he remembered that morning three years ago in 2009. "He didn't refer to you by name or even that you were more than a 'friend,' but I knew, because I knew that look he had in his eyes, because I had it in mine when I first fell in love with Tracy."

They were silent for a couple of minutes, Nell taking in what Callen said, and Callen remembering the last Op he had done with Mike; the bank job. That Op was what proved to Callen that Mike had finally found someone he was serious about, that Mike's 'friend' that he had referred to before the Militia Op, was much more than simply a 'friend.' Mike had started distancing himself from the party crowd and had even complained about partying for the sake of an Op.

Nell surprised Callen by hugging him and laying her head on his chest as she looked at Mike's gravestone. A sad smile was on her lips and a look of pain on her face. Callen had expected her to slap him, to try to walk away again, but not to reinitiate their previous embrace. Though, the previous embrace had been out of grief and desperation, this one was more comfort and reassurance. Callen returned the embrace then placed his right hand on the left side of her waist, his left hand on her right. She whispered, "Did he really ask you that?" She looked away from the gravestone and upward toward Callen. "Did he ask you to be his best man?"

"Yes, Nell, he did." He answered truthfully. Her mouth frowned and pain flickered in her eyes. "I told him that I'd handcuff him to me to make sure that he didn't bolt at the last minute; that he was going to make my Analyst an honest woman."

Nell laughed in spite of the situation and wiped away her tears with her right hand. Callen's hands left her waist and went to her face. The pads of his thumbs wiped away her tears as his hands held her upturned face in place. She rested her right hand on his chest while her left rested against his mid back as she one arm hugged him. They stayed in that position for several minutes. She brought her right hand up to his face and with the back of that hand wiped away several stray tears from his face.

"I would've said yes." She said before she began to cry in earnest again. Her right arm wrapped around him and her left tightened around him, almost into a bear hug. Her face curled into his chest as she sought comfort, solace.

"I know," He replied rawly.

As they stood in front of her beloved's grave, Nell found comfort that she wasn't alone; she had Callen. And, deep down she knew that she had the others, too; yet, she felt the most connected to Callen.

After all, she wouldn't have to pretend with him.

Because, he knew how much she loved Mike.

And, he loved him, too.

Neither Nell or Callen were alone, because they had the other.

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**Thank you all for reading. I appreciate the readership, alerts, favorites, and reviews. I hope that you like this story even though it's a rather different sort of Nallen with the bits of Mike and Nell woven throughout. :)**

**Also, to those who read and follow my other Nell/Callen stories, I apologize for the lack of updates. The outlines, notes, and next few chapters are not accessible to me at this time, but they should be within the next month or so. Again, I'm truly sorry for the inconvenience or irritation that the lack of updates have caused. I've not abandoned them, I promise. **


	3. Chapter Three

**Chapter Three**

A week had passed since the day at the cemetery and the team had solved two cases within that time period and had handed one off to the FBI after doing most of the leg work. The team had been going non-stop and Callen made the decision to give his team the next day off, which surprised Hetty.

"Are you certain, Mister Callen?" Hetty questioned him as she regarded him over the cup of tea that she cradled in both hands.

"I am." He replied as he took a last sip of the expensive imported tea, savoring the flavors over his tongue.

Hetty nodded and pursed her lips in consideration before she asked cheekily as she tapped her fingers together, "As Operations Manager, what am I to do if there is a case that needs urgent attention?"

He placed the fragile tea cup unto the just as fragile saucer on the edge of the large desk that separated the two. He snorted as he sat back into the chair across from Hetty. He answered, his eyebrow arched rebelliously, "I don't care. I'm _certain _that you'll figure something out seeing as you're the Operations Manager. My team isn't the only team in the Office."

"However, correct you are, Mister Callen, your team is the best, the first responders, the primary team." She replied, her brow furrowed at the clear rebellion and lack of caring from her Senior Agent in Charge. His behavior worried her. He had not been the same since Renko and Hunter's deaths and then the Janvier set up had happened. Honestly, she had not been the same either, but she had learned long ago to separate her personal and professional lives and views. However, there were lapses in that control, such as when she had tried to resign when young Dominic had been killed as well as the Comescu Operation, and in the morgue over her fostered daughter, Special Agent Lauren Hunter. Hetty sighed, "Mister Callen, I cannot allow this to go on."

"Come on," He retorted frustratingly so at her challenge of his authority. Some days he felt as if his rank mattered not, most days it didn't matter to _him_, because he saw himself as gear on the well oiled machine, but it frustrated him when he and Hetty or he and Granger butted heads. He missed Vance, truly he did. He hardly ever had a disagreement with the man, the only major one had been the Comescu Operation, but Callen believed that Vance had only made an issue out of it to save face with the Bureaucrats. Vance had once said that he was Bureaucrat, but deep down he was still an Agent, had the Agent mentality. "It's one freaking day," Called exclaimed as he raised from the carefree pose in the chair to sit on the edge of it. He motioned to the bullpen with a side nod, "Look at them."

Hetty glanced at bullpen; Kensi was falling asleep doing her paperwork, jerking awake every few seconds whereas Deeks had already fallen asleep, the side of his face flat on the desk. Sam had an elbow on his desk, the side of his face resting in his palm as he typed on his with one hand on his red laptop computer. Hetty looked away from them back to Callen and she pursed her lips at the smug, all knowing smirk that crossed his lips. "See," He stated, "Even _Sam_, Super Seal, needs a break. As their _leader_, I cannot continue to allow them to work on empty." He paused, his blue eyes hardened. "As their _friend_, I have to give them time to grieve."

Hetty blanched for a second before she regained control of her feelings. However, Callen recognized her millisecond lack of control. He sighed, "I know that you were close to Hunter, that you loved her, and I don't intend this to be in callous or disrespectful to her memory, or the love you have for her, but my team was closer to Mike, Mike was our family, we loved Mike. Hunter was an interloper to most of us and in the end a friend. My family needs time to start to heal from the loss of him. Twenty-four hours will by no means be enough time, but it _is _a start. Kensi's still in shock. Deeks is confused and feels guilty, because he didn't know Mike as well as the rest of us, but he still mourns the loss of a friend, a colleague, of what could have been. Sam is holding it together for the sake of the team. Eric has broken every one of his high scores four times on every game he owns. Nell...well, Nell isn't handling it well, at all...and if I were honest," He inhaled a deep breath and exhaled it as he admitted. "I'm not either." His eyes bore into hers as he declared, "I want Nate brought back...in a professional capacity...I," He cleared his throat. "Get him transferred back, do what you need to...bribe...threaten...extort...hell, I don't care, _how_, just get _him_ back."

Hetty swallowed and looked away guiltily at every mention of Mike's name. She visibly flinched when she heard that he wanted Nate back as an Operational Psychologist. That want, that need proved to her how much he had been affected, how much he knew his team had been. Callen felt no remorse for how he made Hetty visibly uncomfortable. He adored Hetty, loved her, and would die for her, but there were some things worth going against her. She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, Mister Callen." She inhaled deeply and exhaled. "I have something that I must tell you..."

Before Hetty could elaborate, confess if you will, Owen Granger's voice interrupted them, "Henrietta. Agent Callen."

Callen stood, nodded, and quickly excused himself as he was not in the mood to verbally spar with Granger, nor would he continue to discuss his decision to give his team time off. The past three weeks, since the day Mike had died, the team had had one day off, the day he and Nell had inadvertently met in the cemetery, and they all had been called in late that night. As he walked away, he heard Hetty berate the Assistant Director. "Owen, I cannot continue to allow..."

Callen shook his head as he walked to the bullpen and out of hearing range of Hetty's Office. Once there he sat at his desk and after watching Kensi jerk awake three times, he said, "Kensi..." He paused waiting for her to answer him, but she hadn't heard him. He glanced at Deeks who was drooling on the form he had been filling out. When Callen glanced at Sam they shared a look. Sam rolled his eyes and wadded a piece of paper up and tossed it to Callen who caught it then threw it at Deeks.

The wad of paper hit the Detective squarely on the head effectively waking him. He jerked awake and looked around and his gaze landed on Kensi. "Ay! Kensi!" Deeks exclaimed, assuming incorrectly that it had been Kensi whom had thrown the wad of paper at him and was now pretending to be asleep.

"Wha-What?" Kensi said jerking awake, the wad of paper hitting her squarely on the forehead. Callen would have smiled at the cross-eyed expression on her face as she watched the wad of paper fall unto her desk, but that expression only proved even more so that the team needed time off. They were entering dangerous territory when their reflexes and instincts were no longer working. Sniper trained Kensi couldn't even focused on a wad of paper without going cross-eyed.

He, Callen, was used to it. He could function on less than an hour of sleep for days, but even he was starting to buckle under the stress and grief. He hid it well around the others. He knew that Sam knew that he wasn't fine, but so far his partner hadn't pushed the issue. Eric had given him several looks and had a couple times had tried to say something, but the younger man would back off, lose courage before he said what they all thought. However, Nell...Nell was someone that Callen did not want to think about, because he was most vulnerable around her, when he thought about her or Mike, it became much more difficult for him to masquerade what was going on within him.

G. Callen was slowly losing it. His demand for Nate to come back was purely selfish. Although, it would be beneficial to the entire team, to the entire office for their Operational Psychologist to return to be around daily instead of the quarterly psych evaluations, he wanted his friend back. He wanted Nate back, because having Nate around, Callen hoped would help him, remind him of the days when it had been he, Sam, Kensi, Nate, and Mike.

Before he had been shot five times in May 2009.

Before Macy had left.

Before Hetty had returned.

Before Mike had transferred to solo Operations.

Before he, Callen, had returned from medical leave.

Before Dom.

Before Deeks.

Before Nell.

Before Janvier.

He had lost entirely too much, because of the sake of national security. He had lost his mother and his sister before he had known them. He had lost too many acquaintances and friends throughout the years since he had joined the Navy at age eighteen. Losing Mike, a man he had for years considered his little brother was unbearable. It hadn't hurt this much when they had lost Dom or Macy, or even when he found out that he had a sister whom died, or that Hetty had known his mother.

Watching Nell, a young woman barely out of college lose the man she loved was entirely too much added to his own demons. How old was she? Twenty-one? Twenty-two? Twenty-three? Twenty-five? Callen wasn't sure, but he was certain that she was too young to know the feeling of heart crushing grief. She should be planning on her wedding not trying to figure out how to live without the love of her life.

He needed peace. He needed closure. He needed a new beginning. And, that need for a new beginning was precisely why he needed Nate, because if he, Callen, were to choose to disappear, no one would ever find him. His reputation as a ghost was not hype nor was it myth; it was fact. Not even the great Henrietta Lange would find him, or the spectacularly skilled Eric Beale, or the super genius Nell Jones, or even Super Seal, Best Friend Sam Hanna.

Callen was brought out of his thoughts when he heard Kensi whine, legitimately whine like a school girl.

"Deeks," Kensi whined as she placed her forehead on her desk with a loud thud. She pleaded, the sound of her voice muffled. "Leave me alone. _Please_."

"Sugar Bear," He drawled, then yawned as he stretched. "You don't look so good."

"You don't eith..." She trailed off into a loud snore.

"Kensi." Callen stated loudly to get her attention.

She jerked awake, but did not raise her head. Her tone was indignant and threatening, "Callen, I swear with all that is Holy that I will tell Hetty who gave Deeks access to that Segway that disappeared...and how Eric..."

She fell back asleep.

Callen shook his head as he shared a look with Sam then Deeks.

"Kens," Callen said softer as he rubbed his hand across her upper back waking her up, "Go home." He paused, looked at Deeks and before he could tell him to take her home Deeks understood. The Detective stood and stretched as he yawned one last time. He was alert, but tired.

However, Deeks being his lovely self, confirmed his understanding to Callen's silent request by needling Kensi as he walked over to her desk, "Sugar Bear, honey bun, let your delicious Deeks, marvelous Marty, take care of you."

"Okay, my delicious..." Kensi murmured, but fell back to sleep, proving to them all, how out of it she truly was.

Sam snorted and Callen shook his head. Callen warned Deeks as he motioned his hand toward Kensi, "This isn't fodder for future torment, you got it?"

"Yes, sir," Deeks replied in mock salute, before tapping Kensi on the shoulder.

Callen added, "You go home, too, Deeks. I'm giving the team the rest of the day off, tomorrow, too."

"Really?" Deeks asked surprised, but quickly thanked him, before he could change his mind, as if he were. "Thank you, G." Callen smiled, it being one of the rare times that Deeks had called him G. "Hey," He bent down and whispered loudly in Kensi's ear, "Sugar Daddy Callen says it's time to go home."

"Hmm..." Kensi replied as she allowed Deeks to pull her from her sitting position. Deeks wrapped his arm around her and gripped her waist with his hand so that she wouldn't fall over. With his other hand, he grabbed the strap of her over sized bag and put it over his shoulder. She stated wistfully as she leaned into Deeks, her head resting against his shoulder. "I like Sugar Daddies," She admitted. "Can we stop and get one on the way home, baby?" She paused and sighed, "Ooh, Sugar Babies...I want some."

Sam lost it and began to laugh. Callen pressed his lips together, he had to admit that Kensi's behavior was off the wall and mildly entertaining over her love for the carmel covered carmel candy suckers and bites, but he felt sorry for her. She was completely exhausted and slap happy. She had probably not slept, if any at all, since Mike had died. She had been this way for a couple of days after Dom had died, but this was different. He knew that Mike dying was not the same as what had happened with Dom. Dom's death had been devastating, because he was so young, so new. He hadn't yet carved a place into the makeshift family; the team, yes, but not quite the family.

Sam watched Deeks and Kensi leave. He saved the document he had been working on then closed the laptop. He crossed his arms, leaned back into his chair, glanced toward the top of the staircase. He watched Callen sign his name to numerous forms. "G, have you talked to her..."

"Don't go there, Sam." Callen warned without glancing from his stack of expense reports that awaited his signature.

"Go where?" Sam inquired feigning ignorance.

"You know where." Callen answered. He signed three more forms, before he sighed and tossed the ball point pen unto the stack of forms. "Sam, go home, kiss your wife and hug your kid."

"G..." Sam said, ignoring the warning.

"Sam," Callen interrupted him. "I can't."

Sam sighed and looked to the high ceiling in frustration before his brown eyes landed on his best friend, his partner. He pushed anyway. However, instead of the question he had planned to ask, he asked, "When are you going to give it to her?

"Sam..." Callen said in a frustrated tone. He bit his tongue and shook his head, his upper lip snarled upward. He asked in defeat, uncertainty, "Do you think it would help her?"

Sam considered the question before he finally answered, "Yes. I do. Will it heal her? No. Help a lot? Probably not, but perhaps it would help her for one moment, and that one moment is one less moment of pain."

Callen snorted in derision. "I hate it when you get philosophical on me." He rolled his eyes, trying to play the conversation down. "You're like my own personal Buddha." Callen went back to his paperwork as a small smirk graced his lips.

Sam rolled his eyes as he stood. He retorted, "You love me regardless." He started to pack up to leave then paused. "Hey, G." He said softly.

Callen looked up from the stack of forms and answered, "Yeah?

"Tread carefully." Sam stated simply, but Callen recognized that the simple statement was anything but.

"I am, Sam." Callen answered, uncomfortable and bitter. He wished that Sam would drop the discussion and move to another topic...any other topic,

"No, G." Sam retorted. "For both of your sake, tread _very _carefully. You wouldn't be the first man that stepped in to help a widow to find himself..."

"And, there we go." Callen stated as he threw the ballpoint pen down. The velocity behind the throw made the pen land on the desk only to fly off and across the walkway toward Deeks's vacant desk. Callen pushed his chair back and walked around the steel decor barricade that gave them their closed off, yet open bullpen. "I can't do this with you, Sam."

Callen stepped up onto the bottom step of the 'L' shaped staircase that would lead him to Ops. He paused when Sam said, "Then don't. But, you've got to face the possibility of it happening."

Callen shrugged and a flash of pain crossed his features. It was so quick anyone else would have thought that they had imagined the closed off Callen showing any emotion, but Sam recognized it. He had spent years quietly studying his partner's behavior, what made the other man tick. A look of horror flashed across Sam's face when he heard Callen's reply.

Callen snorted and laughed at himself. The laugh was full of pain and mockery and a hint of shame. "I'm pretty sure that the 'possibility' sailed a _long_ time ago."

"Dear God, Callen." Sam stated as he approached Callen and asked a question that if anyone else had asked, they would have received several punches for having the audacity to ask him. But this was Sam. Sam could get away with much more than just anyone. "Why, G? Why do you make things harder for yourself than what they need to be?" His voice dropped several octaves, to lower the chance that anyone that would walk by could not hear what he said, "I know you have a thing for the intellectual type, but really? Mike's girl?"

Callen clenched his jaw and rolled his shoulders. His blue eyes darkened and glared at Sam, "It's complicated."

"No shit, Sherlock." Sam retorted sarcastically.

Callen touched his tongue to te roof of his mouth and jogged up the steps to escape from Sam and his judgment. He appreciated Sam's concern, but the subject of both Mike and Nell were off limits to him. As Callen had said, it was complicated, and until Callen, himself, understood and accepted what was going on, he didn't need to discuss it with Sam, or so he felt. Sam was too close to the situation. Sam's opinion mattered to Callen more than anyone's and it would crush him for Sam to side against him. And, yet he wouldn't blame Sam for doing exactly that.

Callen really wished Nate was here.

And, that wish terrified him in several more ways.

He could feel the world that he had taken years to build slipping away.

* * *

**Thank you for reading. :)**

**I appreciate the readership, alerts, favorites, and reviews.**


	4. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

The feeling that the axis of his world was slipping, tilting in the wrong direction momentarily righted as he saw Nell in front of the large touch screen talking to Eric who was tapping away on his tablet, and either nodding to answer Nell or pointing out something that she hadn't found, but he had. Immediately, Callen became more concerned about the younger woman than himself and his own personal struggles to come to terms with Mike's death and the role he played in it. He buried his demons within his psyche and fortified the mask that held his grief and confusion at bay as the mask considerably weakened around her.

It was as if his inner compass felt most at ease around her, that he could be himself, no matter how dark or light that person was, and yet he didn't want to expose that darkness to her. She was his light and he was afraid that his darkness would be too much, that it would extinguish the light, a light that was becoming dimmer and dimmer, because of her grief.

He hadn't been lying to Sam a few moments ago. The possibility for him to get too emotionally involved with her, about her had long since sailed. He had respected her since she had joined the team, because of someone so young had to have skills and proved herself to be considered, let alone receive the position she held. That respect grew when she continuously took to task people bigger than she—physically and in rank. He began to trust her over time. Her independence and intelligence were attractive to him. Her control issues had entertained him from the start. Unfortunately, what he felt for her was sidetracked. It had taken him a little over six months to decide to ask her out for drinks, but fate would have it another way, because the day that he had planned to ask her, she had received flowers . . . and he recognized the handwriting on the card that she had stashed in her pocket once Sam questioned her about them.

The handwriting had belonged to Mike Renko. He had been in town in between Operations. That night, instead of Callen having drinks with Nell, he had them with her boyfriend of over a year, Mike Renko, and everyone's friend, Nate Getz. It had blown Callen's mind to find out that Mike had been in a relationship for more than a month. A relationship that was on the down low, because Mike feared that Nell would be in more danger if their relationship status was known.

Mike Renko didn't do relationships, but it made sense, because that night Callen realized that the 'friend' Mike had talked about before the Operation with the militia group that had him at a gunpoint by a Jonas Brother, was a younger Nell Jones. And, Nell Jones had been the one that had made him reconsider his own six-week rule. However, because of her relationship with Mike, Callen's six-week rule had become a one-night-only one.

Fate was a bitch, a cruel hard ass one. Fate-had taken so many people from him, why did it have to take Mike, too? He took a deep breath and buried the memories, the hurt and the bitterness.

As he stepped further into Ops, he watched Eric and Nell at work. One side of his lips tilted into a small smile; he was always amazed at how seamlessly they worked together, because it hadn't been that way, at first. The two was so much alike almost of the same mind, same person and yet polar opposites in the next second. He kept expecting to walk into Ops in the middle of a huge argument, equipment flying or screens exploding. He pressed his lips together and clenched his jaw, as he realized what he had done, the memories had slipped past his mask.

Nate would say that he had transferred his unresolved feelings about his former partnership with Mike, about his relationship with Mike period, unto Eric and Nell's partnership. And, Callen wouldn't be able to truthfully deny it, because those descriptions used to apply to the former partnership. They had been so volatile that Hetty had no choice, but to split them up. For a year after the professional partnership with Mike ended, Callen had several partners; Macy, Kensi, and many unnamed Agents that couldn't hack it with the OSP let alone with crazy Callen as many had nicknamed him behind his back. Was it so awful that he shot first then asked questions while a bomb ticked away? Apparently, most of them had thought so. It hadn't been until Hetty had placed him with Sam that he _began _to understand the team dynamic; before that he had always seen himself as a piece of a puzzle; the piece that always found itself somewhere it wasn't supposed to be, the piece that became so tattered that the entire puzzle had to be replaced, or the piece that inevitably was lost, but the puzzle still worked, mostly, without it. He had made the mistake once of telling his puzzle viewpoint to Nate once . . . and as a result Callen had become more creative in his avoidance of the Operational Psychologist, because Nate was tenacious and passionate about helping people, and even more so where it concerned his friends.

From 2005 to 2006, Callen and Mike had been partners in the fledgling OSP. A little over a year filled with what Hetty had called useless and unnecessary explosions and gunfights, because both men had a death wish added to the fact that they were entirely too much alike that they were totally different. Macy had always laughed when Hetty went on a tangent on the pair, before trying to persuade her that the 'boys' only acted the way that they did to get a reaction out of her, which was partly true, Callen had to admit. Yet, that was simply how he and Mike were, how they had been for years.

Nate had once told him that it was natural for him and Mike to act and react the way that they did, because both saw the other as a brother. Nate was the only one to know that he and Mike were brothers . . . once foster brothers. No, that wasn't right, Hetty had to know, because she had kept track of the fostered homes that he had been sent to; that knowledge still left a bitter taste in Callen's mouth; that Hetty had known where he had been when he wasn't on the streets, (Callen suspected that even then, she had an idea of where he was) and yet she did nothing, had left him with some of the worst monsters he had ever met, and he had met plenty of monsters in the last twenty-plus years in the military and law enforcement.

He was brought out of the reminiscent of memories when Nell sprinted past him without a backward glance. His brow furrowed and he glanced at the closing automatic doors then at Eric who shrugged. Callen went to turn around to follow her, but stopped when he heard Eric speak.

"She's okay," Eric said in a tone that sounded more as if he was trying to persuade himself instead of Callen. "She does that a lot here lately."

"She does what a lot?" Callen asked for specifics. "Run from Ops like it's on fire?"

Eric grimaced, "Yeah. And, this morning when I came into work I found her asleep at her station in yesterday's clothes, and when she woke up she barely missed my feet vomiting in the paper bin." He sighed as if finally admitting to himself that his hopes were for naught. "Something's wrong with Nell, G."

"Yeah, I know." Callen answered then tilted his head and narrowed his eyes as he looked at Eric.

Eric tensed and took a step back at how Callen regarded him. He was brave enough to admit that Callen scared him at times. Callen always had an aura of danger around him, all of the agents did, but Callen was different; his danger was dark. If he and Callen weren't friends, family, Eric felt as if he would always be scared of Callen. It had taken some time to get over the fear of Callen and then when the Callen and Sam had been first partnered, Eric had been convinced that the dark side Super Man and the lighter side of The Hulk had joined forces. And, almost six years later, Eric was certain he had been right.

Eric was brought out of his thoughts when Callen snapped his fingers in front of Eric. Eric blinked and jolted at not realizing that Callen was no longer on the other side of Ops, but within arms reach.

"Eric?" Callen prompted. He glanced upward then his blue eyes met Eric's green. Eric looked exhausted and yet he tried to forge onward. Callen hadn't heard Eric complain once in the past three weeks, not that Eric normally complained, but out of the entire team, he knew that Eric had worked the most hours, because added to everything the team did, needed from him, Eric had to maintain the computer systems and had more paperwork than they all combined. Eric and Nell frequently worked the most hours. Realization hit Callen. If Eric had logged in the most hours, then Nell must not be far behind him, if not matched hour for hour, minute to minute. Nell was literally working herself sick when she should be grieving, or was if her grief that was making her sick? Callen wasn't sure, but he would check in on her and if she needed, he would take care of her.

"What?" Eric asked as he blinked seeing two Callen's; it was past time for another energy drink and some Oreos.

"I want you to go home." Callen said, his eyebrows raised as if daring Eric to try to persuade him otherwise.

Eric sputtered, "What? What did I do?"

Callen sighed, "Nothing, Eric. The last few weeks have been hard for us as a team, and I'm giving the team the rest of the day off and tomorrow."

Eric blinked, "But . . . "

"No, no buts." Callen interrupted.

"Thanks, G," Eric answered. He grimaced as he continued attempting to persuade him, "But seriously I can't go home right now."

"Why not?" Callen asked patiently, because he knew that Eric questioning him meant that the questioning was valid.

"I don't work exclusively with you guys," Eric stated. He nudged his glasses up the bridge of his nose. Callen narrowed his eyes upon seeing the tell. Eric wasn't telling him something. However, Callen's suspicions of the tell was abated upon hearing what Eric continued to say, "When you guys are doing paperwork or down time, I'm loaned out to the secondary teams and I'm currently assisting Abby with one of Agent Gibbs' cases."

Callen nodded in understanding. He knew that Eric sometimes worked with the other teams, because his skills were unparalleled. However, that did not mean that Callen would allow Eric to be taken advantage of or only seen as an Asset to the Agency.

"The secondary team's case what is it?" Callen asked, because if it was something that one of the other Tech's could do, he'd have Eric delegate it to them. Eric needed time to grieve as much as the rest of the team and if their eyes and ears was exhausted then it would be a liability in the field that they couldn't risk. Oddly, Eric seemed the most put together of the team. He looked tired, ragged, but not as out of it as Kensi. Callen supposed it was all of the Energy Drinks that he had seen the younger man drink. Energy drinks to Eric was what coffee was to Callen's good friend Gibbs.

Eric became uncomfortable under Callen's awaiting gaze. He touched his glasses on the nosepiece again and then once on the earpiece, "Well, I'm not at liberty to say."

"Eric," Callen said, trying his best not to slip into interrogation mode. It was now obvious to Callen that Eric was withholding vital information, because Eric was usually an open book, one of the most open people that Callen had ever encountered. Eric wore his heart on his forehead; whatever he felt, could be easily seen and deciphered. And, yet, in this moment Eric was being almost as closed off as Callen was when Callen tried to be open. "Eric," He repeated. Eric backed away and Callen stepped forward. "What aren't you telling me?"

Eric cleared his throat, but the sound was more of a croaking sound. He answered in a tone that became high-pitched by the time he said the last word, "G, I'm sorry, but it's classified."

"Don't give me that," Callen retorted as he took another step forward. Eric took a step back and to the right to move around the large touch screen table. Callen continued stalking Eric and Eric continued to retreat. Callen continued, "If it were Deeks, Kensi, or hell even Sam asking you, you could get away with saying that, but this is," Callen paused when he saw the look of true fear and a touch of regret on Eric's face. He planted his feet on the ground, pressed his lips together, and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Eric. Please forgive me, I'd never hurt you."

Eric nodded relieved. He knew deep down that Callen wouldn't hurt him, would never land a hand on him, and yet he feared that one day that would be exactly what Callen would do. He tightened his grip on his tablet and sat down at his station. When Callen continued, Eric tensed.

"This is me, Eric." Callen said as he sat in Nell's chair at her station directly beside Eric's. "No one in the office has a higher security clearance than I do," He paused and shrugged one shoulder, "Except Hetty, and even then in some areas, mine is higher than hers." He clasped his hands together, rested his forearms over his jean-clad quadriceps. He leaned forward toward Eric. "What aren't you telling me? Seriously, Eric, it can't be that classified if one of the secondary teams is handling it. No one on those teams, including the Agents in Charge, has a higher security clearance than Deeks, a _liaison _for the primary team."

When a look of total defeat and a hint of relief crossed Eric's facial features, Callen knew that Eric would truthfully answer him. The grip that Eric had on the tablet was as tight as it could be, his knuckles turning white. Eric pressed his lips together and sighed. He leaned toward Callen as if to whisper conspiracies, but then snapped to attention, his back as straight as possible as he sat in the chair. Callen regarded him and wondered what had caused the reaction, but when he heard Assistant Director, Owen Granger's voice, he understood. Callen rolled his eyes at how Granger said, 'Agent Callen,' as if to remind him that he was an Agent.

"Agent Callen," Owen droned dryly. "Your arrogance never ceases to amaze me."

"Your impeccable timing is a few weeks too late." Callen retorted, swiveling the chair around to look at Granger. "Where were you when Mike needed his Handler?"

Owen placed his hands in his designer grey slacks and narrowed his brown eyes at the younger man, his subordinate. A flash of a smile across his lips made Callen wary. Just as fast as the smile flashed it was gone. "Agent Callen, the real question is where were you? Ten feet away?" He arched his right eyebrow as he needled, "One would think you'd allowed it to happen, after all Janvier was after you not a lower ranked Agent who had no team to call home. Did you think that if Janvier successfully targeted Agent Renko that he wouldn't have to target Agents Hanna and Blye?"

Callen quickly rose out the chair and caught himself from raising his right arm from his side from the first accusation that Granger had said. Callen's upper lip snarled. "Mike has a team." He swallowed and silently cleared his throat. His voice raw, his throat burned with restrained grief and anger. "His significance is no lower than anyone on that team. If you remember, Assistant Director, Agents Hanna and Blye, as well as Detective Deeks were targeted."

A strange sparkle twinkled in Granger's eyes as he listened to what Callen said and watched how Callen said it. Callen angrily walked past him and Granger smirked at being able to anger him. Granger slightly turned to look at Callen.

"Had, Agent Callen, had." Granger corrected, his tone normal and yet underneath it was snide.

"What?" Callen asked, as he paused in the doorway preventing the automatic double doors from closing.

"Agent Renko," Granger answered, his tone accusatory, "Had a team and they let him down as they always have."

Callen rolled his shoulders and left, because he would not be able to help his team if he were to do what he wanted to do to Granger.

Just when Callen had thought that Granger wasn't so bad, the older man always proved him wrong. There were two things that Callen hated more than anything it was being wrong about something that was important and being deceived whether intentionally or accidentally.

In his moment of anger, grief, and worry he failed to realize that . . .

Sometimes, being wrong leads to something right.

Sometimes, being deceived leads to something open.

And, yet, some wrongs can never be righted, and some lies can never be forgotten.

Or forgiven.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! :)**

**I appreciate all of the readerships, alerts, favorites, and reveiws. Thank you for giving this unorthodox Nell/Callen story a chance. I love Nell/Callen and Mike Renko so what better than to combine them into a story about dealing with the death of Mike Renko? I'm not sure about what y'all's opinion of Mike is, but I, for one, am in denial that he's dead in canon. My conspiracy theory, you ask? He's off on some super secret Op that will be revealed later in the season.**

**Chapter Five will be posted later today/tomorrow depending on what time zones we all are in.**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

As soon as Ty-one of the original Technical Support Staffers of the OSP-spotted Callen walking down the hallway, Ty tried to slip into a vacant conference room. Callen looked murderous and Ty did not want to become his next victim. Callen's outbursts of anger and intimidation were, in the office, almost as legendary as his reputation as a legend within the Government Agencies. Not many of the current staffers had seen that side of the legendary Agent, but Ty had been the second of the Technical Staff hired for the Office of Special Projects and thus had almost eight years of experience of Callen. He took pride in the fact that he and Eric Beale were the only 'Techies' left from the original office. Henrietta Lange ruled with a mighty fist; Intelligence Analysts and Technical Support were two positions that caught most of the Operations Manager's ire, because they were always in the office and could not escape for hours on end as Field Agents could.

"Hey," Callen called out and sped up his walking pace. Ty pretended not to hear him, but stopped when he heard Callen say his name. He could no longer pretend to not hear him or mistake him for speaking to someone else. "Ty wait!"

Ty grimaced and turned the tablet in his hand back and forth in frustration, but by the time he turned around to greet Callen, he had a helpful smile on his face. "Hello, Callen," He said, in a friendly tone. "How can I help you?"

"Have you seen Nell?" Callen asked bitterly. The bitterness seeped into his tone, because seeing Ty reminded him of a time when Mike and Ty had played an April Fool's Day trick on Sam. Mike was technology illiterate where it concerned code and needed Ty's help to mess with Sam's computer. To Ty's surprise, but no one else's, Mike had fooled Ty by saying that it was his own personal computer. By the time, Ty had realized that it was indeed Sam's computer, it was too late. Fortunately for both Mike and Ty, Sam had Eric fix it and he had been able to reverse the damage so that Sam would not damage the pranksters.

Callen shook his head to rid himself of the memory. He needed to get a grip. He was seeing memories of Mike everywhere; he self-depreciatory thought that next he would be seeing his friend's ghost.

"Nell?" Ty asked surprised. He misunderstood the reasoning for Callen's anger and bitterness. "Um," His brow furrowed as he wondered what Nell had done to anger Callen. Nell got along with everyone and was flawless at her job. "No . . . should I?"

"No." Callen answered frustrated. "If you see her, can you tell her that I need to talk to her."

"If I see her, I will pass along the message." Ty promised.

Callen shook his head and gave his thanks before continuing down the hall. Once Ty could no longer see Callen, he exhaled the breath that he had been holding and muttered, "Poor girl won't know what hit her."

And, how right he would eventually be.

- . -

Callen was becoming more frustrated and worried. He could not find Nell. He had been searching for her for a little over thirty minutes. No one had seen her and it bothered him greatly that he could not locate her. Ten minutes ago, he had walked past Eric who was on his way out of the office, he said he hadn't seen Nell since she had left Ops, he then said that Ty had taken over assisting Abby on Gibbs' case. Before Callen could question him about the classified case of a secondary team, Eric had said his goodbyes and left. If Callen hadn't known any better, he would have been certain that the Technical Operator was taking lessons from Hetty about dodging questions. It shouldn't have surprised Callen that Eric Beale had picked up a few tricks in the last eight years with the OSP, but it did. He had underestimated the younger man and made the mental note not to do so again.

As Callen started walking up the 'L' staircase for the fifth time in the last forty-five minutes, he heard Hetty call his name, and he paused on the third stair. He turned and looked down at her.

"Mister Callen," Hetty bellowed from several feet away from the staircase. "What on earth are you doing?" Her hands firmly on her hips. "Is this a new exercise program that you are participating in?"

"Exercise programs?" Callen parroted. "What are you talking about?"

Hetty stepped forward and pointed upward at the top of the staircase. "I have watched you walk up and down that staircase for the last thirty minutes. Against my wishes, you sent your team home, so I must ask what are _you _still doing here?"

"I'm looking for Nell." He answered reluctantly. "I can't find her . . ." He paused and rolled his eyes at the look of innocence that crossed Hetty's face. "You sent her home, didn't you?"

"Were you not planning to do the same?" Hetty asked cheekily, before her tone became serious. "Although, even if you hadn't sent your team home, I would have sent Miss Jones."

"Why?" Callen asked, his concern growing ever more. "What's wrong with her?"

Hetty arched an eyebrow and she crossed her arms. "Don't play coy with me, Mister Callen. You know the answer to your question."

His entire body tensed. He swallowed as his eyes hardened. "Is there anything that you do not know?"

"Why yes, Mister Callen, as a matter of fact there is a thing or two that I do not know, such as what happened to my Segway. It's as if it disappeared out of thin air. After all, it was secured in a storage room that required both a key and pass code. The surveillance feed was oddly a dead end, because it showed no one entering or leaving . . . "

Inwardly, Callen was amused, because even though Hetty may not know what happened to her beloved Segway that she had confiscated from Eric, Callen knew that she had a suspicion.

Hetty continued listing some of the things that she does not know, but Callen was not listening to her. He would hear the occasional word or sentence. ". . .and I do not know how someone could prefer coffee over tea . . . "

Callen stood there for several seconds watching Hetty talk, but was not hearing what she said. Instead of listening, he was running through the possibilities of where Nell was, and every possibility had something to do with Mike. No matter how much he wanted to remain in denial of what happened or simply not think about what happened, he could not deny that he knew that he would have to grieve, to face the reality that his best friend was gone, because in order to help Nell, he would have to take the journey with her. They both needed to learn how to live life without Mike.

"Mister Callen . . . " He heard Hetty say. "Mister Callen . . ."

"Yes, Hetty?" He answered, trying to shake the feeling of dread that had overcame him since realizing that he would be forced to face and conquer his feelings. Nate would be proud of him, he was sure. The irony was not lost on him that Nate had been there when he didn't want to talk—he never wanted to talk—but now that he needed to talk, Nate was off to parts unknown.

"I've spoken to the proper channels and our Mister Getz will return to us." Hetty answered.

Callen's brow furrowed and suspicion filled his blue eyes. He raised his head, his chin slightly jutting forward. "What?"

"You asked for Mister Getz's transfer and I acquired it." Hetty responded smiling. "His ETA is a few days depending on certain factors."

Callen shook his head and took a step backward and upward on the staircase as if retreating from Hetty, "No . . . that was too easy, too quick. It's not been an hour since I told you I wanted him back." He regarded Hetty suspiciously as if he expected her to betray him at any moment. "Transfers take time," He said slowly, "Red tape, and bureaucrat nonsense. This smells awfully like a set-up."

"Mister Callen, you did say that you didn't care _how _I got him back, just that I got him back." Hetty reminded him sagely. "I did what you asked. Now, I expect you to do what I ask . . . stop looking at a gifted horse as if it is plotting your demise, understood?" She asked confirmation.

"No." Callen replied firmly in rebellion. He stepped down the staircase as his fists were clenched at his side. The intuition that had kept him alive numerous of times throughout the years told him that something was wrong, very wrong, and yet he could not place it. "No, not understood. I have allowed you to keep certain secrets, knowledge if you will, but this moment is the time to come clean. If you have anything to tell me, I don't care what that anything pertains to, you need to tell me now." He paused as he regarded her and she regarded him. They were at an impasse. Neither wanted to give. The corner of his eyes wrinkled and his lips formed a stern line. "You and Granger have something cooked up and I want to know what it is."

Hetty chuckled in spite of the tense situation, "Allowed? Owen and I? You make it sound as if we are thick as thieves."

Callen shook his head and retorted, "No, you two are thicker than that. You two have a history and it's shady. You forget that I was CIA, too. I know what sorts of things you two were up to in the eighties."

Hetty frowned and caught herself before she glared at her charge, "Mister Callen," She swallowed, "Do not assume to know what sorts of things that I have done. Although, you have seen far more than someone should, I have done tenfold worse. There are some things that you don't understand and will never be able to understand."

Callen swallowed and blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, not because Hetty had taken him to task, but because of what she said about understanding, triggered memories and insecurities about his past, his family, and Mike's death. "You're correct about that Hetty," He admitted. Again, he swallowed then clenched his jaw. He walked down the stairs and stepped unto the floor. He walked to wear Hetty stood. His eyes full of distrust and disappointment bore into hers. If he didn't know better he could have sworn that there was a flash of regret and shame in hers, but as quick as he saw it, it disappeared to be replaced with something he couldn't place. He added, his voice low and to anyone else it would sound dangerous, but not to Hetty. "Because, I don't understand," To Hetty, the voice sounded as if it belonged to a grieving confused child who couldn't understand why his family had left him. Callen continued, "How someone can sleep at night knowing that they destroyed a family and have the answers that would lessen the pain . . ."

She jolted as if she had been slapped; what he said had touched more than one nerve. She interrupted him, "Before you throw stones, Mister Callen, make certain that you are able to catch them."

"I assure you that I can." He retorted, acknowledging the threat and refusing to back down despite how he cared about her or respected her.

"Mister Callen," She sighed, in this moment retreating. She had long known that wars were won by losing some battles. She was not ready to reveal what he wanted revealed and she was not ready to confess how wrong she had been. She was no longer ready to confess to him what she had been apart of. Henrietta Lange was ashamed of herself and she could count on one hand how many times she had felt that emotion in her lifetime. She cleared her throat and shared a piece of wisdom that he wasn't ready to hear. "Some stones are not meant to soar through the air, they are best kept solitary and hidden, grounded and grouped if you will in a place where they can be visited but never prodded, because once prodded the stone will fall which will cause a domino effect that none of us is ready to experience."

He bit the inner side of his bottom lip and turned around. He returned to the staircase and took two to three stairs at a time. He stormed into Ops barely missing the double automatic doors as they opened. He was faster than the motion sensor. As soon as he stepped through the doors, he saw Forensic Scientist Abby Sciuto on the large screen video conferencing with Ty.

"Hi," Abby greeted exuberantly. "Agent G. Callen!"

Ty jumped then turned around in the chair. "Callen."

Callen nodded at Ty before he greeted Abby, "Hello, Abby Sciuto. How are you?"

"Awesome." She replied, but Callen could see that she was pretending, fooling even herself. It was less than a month ago that she had been in the explosion that had taken a chunk out of the Navy Yard. Her lab was mostly unaffected due to the reenforcement of the foundation that Jenny Shepard had allowed several years ago as well as Abby's own daily safety measures of the chemicals in her lab. If she wasn't so careful and efficient the entire Navy Yard would have been blasted to smithereens, because of the volatile combination of the car bomb and flammable substances stored in her lab. "And you? G. Callen?"

"Awesome." Callen answered, using her word.

Abby eyed him for a moment, before responding. "G. Callen, I can see how you and Gibbs get along so well."

"You're very astute, Abby Sciuto." Callen stated, his utmost respect for her grew. She had seen past his mask as he had seen past hers and yet neither called the other out.

"Yes, yes I am." Abby replied. "I want to thank you for offering the services of the OSP to me a few years ago. I did not think that I would need them again, but with everything going on here, I needed some help." She smiled, though the smile did not reach her eyes. "Both Eric and Ty have been instrumentally helpful."

"You're welcome, Abby." Callen answered. "Whenever you need something, contact us."

"Yes, sir. The same goes for you and your team, you need me, just call." She paused, "Ty said that Eric went home early . . . G. Callen, is he okay?" Abby asked, hesitant.

"Yes, no need to worry, Abby Sciuto." Callen responded as he forced a carefree smile across his lips.

Abby nibbled her bottom lip before she quickly said, "I'm sorry about Agent Renko. Gibbs spoke highly of him as an Agent . . . not so much about his boating or fishing skills."

In spite of the painful reminder that Mike was gone, Callen smiled at the memory of him, Gibbs, and Renko fishing or rather Gibbs fishing and Callen being entertained at Mike's attempt to fish, only to end with Gibbs pushing both of the younger men overboard.

Callen nodded and said, "Thank you, Abby."

Abby smiled and nodded in return. She looked at Ty. "Ty, please email me what you found and I'll send you details for another search."

"Yes, ma'am." Ty replied.

The video feed became snow once Abby disconnected the call.

Ty stood from his seating position at Eric's station and walked over to the large screen. He closed the video feed and sent it to the main frame. He turned when he felt Callen watching him. Curious, Ty asked, "Is there something that I can help you with, Callen?"

"Actually, there is." Callen replied. "I need a GPS search done."

"GPS?" Ty repeated, his brow furrowed. "Kaladioscope?"

"No, a GPS search." Callen repeated. "I need to locate one of my team."

"Okay." Ty nodded before he added apologetic. "I'm sorry, but I don't have a high enough security clearance to search the whereabouts of the primary team."

Callen sighed. He should have remembered that particular security policy as he and Macy had been instrumental in creating it. The policy had been created to prevent lower ranked Support Staff from being able to access primary ranked Agents and Support Staff in the case that the lower ranked Staffer was targeted for information.

"Are you able to access the program?" Callen asked patiently, although frustrated. It was not Ty's fault that he could access the information he wanted. He should have thought about the GPS search before Eric had left.

"Yes. I can search anyone from the secondary teams or their back up teams, but not from your team. Your team is off-limits to everyone except for Eric and Nell."

"Okay." Callen nodded then pointed at Eric's station. "Pull the program up and I'll conduct the search."

Ty blinked and his brow furrowed. "You . . . will conduct the search?"

Callen answered, "Yes . . . " He then realized why Ty was questioning him, "I know how to conduct it, Ty. Macy required the entire team to be proficient in basic searches. And, my role as SAiC, I have to know more than the basic ones." He paused, as he saw the look of admiration and respect grow in Ty's brown eyes. "Don't look at me like that. You and Eric, and Nell are much more efficient at it than I am. My element is in the field. You guys are in your element here at the office. One can't exist without the other."

Ty nodded, but as he returned to Eric's station, that admiration and respect grew even more. The SAiCs of the other teams were jerks, treating support staff as if they were peasants, but the Special Agent in Charge of not only his own team, but the entire office understood what all of the Support Staffers knew; the support staff is the lifeline of the office, the brain, while the Agents are the backbone, the brawn.

Once Ty pulled the program up, he stood and motioned toward the computer. He said, "It's all yours." He paused, "If you need me, I'm going to be downstairs taking a coffee break in the staff lounge."

Callen nodded and appreciated Ty's tact. If Ty wasn't able to access the information, he was not allowed in the same room when the information was accessed. "Thank you, Ty."

Once the automatic double doors closed, Callen sat in Eric's chair and clicked on the appropriate tab that would lead him to the search engine that he needed. He typed in his personal security pass code and typed in the name and phone number of the cell that he wanted tracked.

Nell Jones, xxx-xxx-xxxx.

The search was fairly quick, but when he recognized where the blinking red light was on the map of Los Angeles, his lips parted in surprise. He moved the arrow of the mouse over the blinking red light and his eyes closed then opened when he realized that he had not been mistaken upon first seeing the blinking red light.

He hadn't expected her to be _there _of all places.

But, if he thought about it, it made sense.

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**Thank you for reading. :)**

**I appreciate the readership, alerts, favorites, and reviews.**

**Chapter 6 will be posted later today/early tomorrow. **


	6. Chapter Six

**Warning: This story contains dark themes and possible triggers. This is a FICTIONAL story using FICTIONAL characters and a FICTIONAL plot. The story is dark, but I PROMISE that it will get lighter.**

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**Chapter Six**

Callen let himself in the condominium with the key that he'd been given years ago, but had never used. The furniture of the living area was modern, the wall decor was chic, and the lighting sophisticated. The color scheme was black, browns, and different shades of grey. To Callen the atmosphere was pure Academia. As he wandered through the condo in search of Nell, the Academia subtly transformed to feminine quirkiness, welcoming; this particular decor had changed since the last time he had been here...how long had it been? As he calculated the answer to his question, he paused and the question was long forgotten. His blue eyes landed on the curved staircase and a memory bombarded him. He closed his eyes. It was when Nate had first moved in, Mike had slid down the railing, and in essence drop kicked an unsuspecting Eric.

He inhaled a shaky breath and just when he was about to exhale he felt something brush against the back of his head then in the next half of a second hit him squarely against his right bicep. He pivoted and grabbed the offending weapon only to be surprised by both the weapon of choice and the identity of the assailant.

What had hit him was an old fashioned straw broom.

And, the assailant who now screamed bloody murder was Rose, the LAPD Head Medical Examiner, who was dressed in clean scrubs, that when she realized whom her victim was she started to apologize profusely, "I am so sorry, Callen...I didn't realize..."

She trailed off, her blue eyes round and wide, her lips parted in surprise as she stared behind him. Callen turned around and was again surprised and a twinge shocked.

It was Nell. She looked ill. She was wearing a dark green men's T-Shirt over a pair of dark denim jeans. She was barefooted. And, she was holding a standard issue Glock which was pointed at him.

"Nell, put the gun down." Callen said calmly in his best negotiating tone, but he was anything, but calm. When did she start carrying her service weapon? He had only seen her carry it when she was needed in the field and he could count those occurrences on one hand. He knew that she kept her service weapon in a lock box at Headquarters and her carrying it worried him, because of the look of defeat in her eyes. He had seen that same defeat in his eyes before and it horrified and hurt him that Nell was considering doing the same thing he had considered several times and had attempted once throughout his life. He needed to get the gun away from her, not only in this instance, but perhaps permanently. In this moment, he stopped caring how Hetty had procured Nate's transfer. He, no, Nell needed Nate now more than ever.

"Ne-e-ll," Rose said fearful. She swallowed. Her pitch was high as she asked, "What are you doing with a gun?"

Her voice dull, Nell said as she holstered the service weapon behind her back. "Hi, Rose. When you screamed, I thought someone had broke in..." She sighed. "I'm sorry that I scared you."

"It's okay, it's..." Rose trailed off before finding her train of thought. "It's just that I didn't know that you carried a gun."

"All Intelligence Analysts are issued a service weapon." Nell answered matter-of-factly as she avoided Callen's gaze. She knew that he knew that IA's were not required to carry them at all times, that she never carried it unless she was in the field.

"Oh," Rose said as she blinked. "Um," She said awkwardly. "Are you sure," She paused glanced at Callen then back at Nell, "I know you said that you were okay, but I can have someone cover my shift..."

Nell interrupted her, "I'm sure..."

Then, Nell was interrupted by Callen, "Rose, go ahead and go to work, I've got Nell."

Nell swallowed and a look of pain and confusion crossed her face. Both Callen and Rose looked at her in concern. Nell could not handle the look of pity across Callen's face. She turned, walked away toward the hallway that lead to Nate's study and the guest rooms; one of which used to unofficially be Mike's. He stared after her wanting to follow her, but he wanted Rose's insight.

"Callen..." Rose said then paused uncertain how to say what she wanted to and uncertain how Callen would receive it.

"How is she?" Callen asked, then corrected his question, "I mean how do you think she is not what she keeps claiming?"

"Um..." Rose answered.

Callen sighed, "I know about her and Mike, Rose...and she knows that I know about them. So, how do you think she is?"

Rose sighed in relief, because she wanted to help Nell, to help Callen help Nell, but in the same instance she did not want to betray Nell or Mike about their secret relationship. "Thank goodness," Rose said as she began to chatter. "I never understood why they chose to keep their relationship a secret. It wasn't like it was against some policy. They were adorable together. She loved him very much Callen and he her. She's not handling it well, because she's avoiding it, but she's struggling to maintain a balance. She's losing it."

"Losing it?" Callen asked for clarification.

"Losing her mind, Callen." Rose answered, "I'm not certified in the area, this is definitely Nate's field, but I can _see _her losing it. She's forcing herself to go through the motions. Did you know that she's been staying here since...since it happened?" Rose paused to take a breath then she started to chatter again. "I don't mind, at all. But it's not healthy, Callen. She's not been home since it happened. She hasn't entered Mike's room here, at all. She's staying in the other guest bedroom. The first night here she asked for me to their apartment and get Mike's green shirt out of the closet, because that's the shirt that he had on when they first met." She paused to take another breath. "She's not sleeping or eating when she's here. I'm worried about her. She stays at work for days then comes back here for a few hours or simply to take a shower and then repeat. I just wish Nate was here. He'd know what to do..." Rose said then she realized what she said, "Not that you don't know what to do, Callen. It's just that I love Nell like a sister, she's one of my closest friends, but I don't know how to handle this Nell. I'm used to the outgoing and clever Nell not the suicidal and grieving one."

Callen had listened intently to Rose talk, because she had the habit of talking fast without taking a breath and it was sometimes hard to follow, but his head snapped backward and his spin straightened when he heard the word that he had only moments ago had silently labeled Nell. He said slowly, "You said suicidal, what makes you say that?"

"Uh...uh..." Rose stuttered. "Did I say..."

Callen interrupted her, "Rose, I know what you said. I know what I heard. You would not have said that word unless you know something that I don't or saw something."

Rose sighed sadly, "It's not anything that she's said or did Callen. It's what she's not doing. She's not eating. She's not drinking anything. Well, at least here, but..." She paused awkwardly, "I'm not sure if you've noticed, because well you're a guy, and she's so petite to begin with, but she's lost some weight."

"I noticed, but I thought it was where she's been working non-stop." Callen answered. "I should have known better though."

"Seriously, Callen, if..." Rose paused uncertain how to word it, but decided to go on with it, because this was Callen. Callen was never offended by anything that she said and she had said some doosies before. "If you want me to stay with her, I understand. I'm not sure how close you and she are..."

Callen swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable for the first time with the small redhead that had ensnared Nate's heart the first time he had met her. "We're friends, but no matter how close we were, we're tied together, because of our love for Mike."

"Callen," Rose whispered almost pityingly as she remembered something that Nate had once told her in strict confidence. She hadn't believed it, because it was _Callen_. Callen was untouchable, intangible. No one had ever, to her knowledge, touched his guarded heart. "Callen, I'm sorry."

"For what?" Callen asked, not realizing what Rose knew.

"This complicates things a lot, doesn't it?" Rose asked, an obvious statement tagged with a request for confirmation.

Silently, Callen regarded her carefully.

When he did not answer, Rose sighed and touched his right bicep in an attempt to comfort him. When he looked down into her blue eyes he realized that she knew. He wasn't sure how she knew that he cared about Nell, how he cared about Nell, but he was certain that she did.

Rose said, her eyes and tone of voice understanding, "I've got to go, but I trust that you'll do right by her. She can't handle whatever it is that is growing between you. Get her on track, help her heal, help her grieve, and what happens, happens."

He swallowed and nodded as he said, "I'm going to do whatever it takes to help her. She needs to know that she's not alone that she has a reason to live."

Rose smiled bittersweetly, "Yeah, she does, but you also need to know that. You need to know that you aren't alone in wanting to help her and that you aren't alone. You were Mike's best friend, you meant the world to him. He loved you."

As the petite redhead left to go to work, Callen stared after her. His pressed his lips together and bit down on those lips as he fought to control the tears from falling. What Rose had said, he had already known, but hearing it from someone that was slightly removed from the situation was something that he needed to hear.

Moments after Rose had left, he started walkng down the hallway that would lead to the guest rooms, however he started running down it when he heard something that he never ever wanted to hear again.

A gun shot originating from the room occupied by Nell Jones.

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_**DISCLAIMER**_: In no way is it my intent to glorify suicide or imply that it is an acceptable option, because nothing about suicide is gloriful or acceptable, in my opinion. If you or a loved one have or are considering suicide please, please, PLEASE talk to someone. Talk to your family, friends, teachers/professors, loved ones, law enforcement, or even a stranger. Suicide is not the option.

In the United States, the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline phone number is 1 - 800 - 273 - 8255. Anyone outside of the U.S. can use Google or another search engine to find appropriate resources.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Moments after Rose had left, he started walking down the hallway that would lead to the guest rooms, however he started running down it when he heard something that he never ever wanted to hear again; a gun shot originating from the room occupied by Nell Jones.

"NELL!" He exclaimed in anguish. He ran down the hallway and it seemed as if he had ran a mile instead of the few yards that it actually was. His heart beat was erratic and at one point it literally stopped. His lungs burned and chest hurt from the crushing feeling that she had done what he had feared she would do. He should have . . . his mind was in overload. He was thinking so many thoughts and feeling so many emotions that he became numb, not the numb where one did not feel, but the numb where everywhere hurts and yet you don't care how much it hurts. If he could turn the clock to prevent this, to prevent everything that happened, he would. He would offer himself to be forever tortured for the opportunity to prevent this, everything, from happening. He would give anything, do anything, take anything. No amount of physical torture or pain would never match the pain he felt in this moment.

One thought, however, was prevalent through it all.

He could not lose her.

He could not lose her, because he had failed to take away the gun when his gut had told him that he needed to get it away from her. He had failed her. He had failed Mike. He had failed himself.

Finally after what seemed like minutes which was truly seconds he made it to the guest room door. It was locked, but he rammed his right shoulder, the right side of his entire body into the door, and the velocity of his strength broke the door frame and the door halfway off the hinges.

He looked around the small room frantically and did not see her. He searched the room frantically, but Nell was no where to be seen.

"NELL!" He screamed repeatedly, tears trailing down his face. He

opened the closet door and searched there and she was not there either. As he coughed from screaming her name so much he heard it.

He heard water, but this guest room did not have an attached bathroom.

Mike's did.

Callen ran out of the small guest bedroom into the hallway. He tried to open the door to Mike's bedroom and found it too locked. He kicked the door open and ran into the room. The door to the attached bathroom was open. Nell was on the floor in a puddle that kept become bigger.

"Oh My God." Callen exclaimed as a fresh wave of tears fell. He ran into the bathroom and scooped her up into his arms, holding her in a combination as one would a bride and a child. "Nell, Oh My God, Nell." He embraced her tightly and he cried into the crook of her neck and repeated her name.

Emotionally exhausted, his knees became weak and he fell to the tiled floor. His denim clad knees fell into the puddle and both he and Nell were soaked. He was not comprehending his surroundings. All of his training, all of his observation skills were lost to him. He had a distorted sense of tunnel vision. All his mind could think about was that he had heard a gun shot and that he had found Nell face first on the floor.

He could care less about the integrity of a crime scene. He could care less that every inch of him was soaked. He could care less that Nell was telling him to calm down, that he was scaring her, and that she was sorry for shooting the toilet, that Nate and Rose were going to kill her.

Wait.

"What?" Callen said, his voice hoarse, his throat raw. His eyes burned, his nose burned, everything burned. "Nell?" He pulled away and looked down at the crying, soaked woman in his arms. "Oh my God, Nell!" He whispered in relief as he realized that the puddle on the floor was water, water from the toilet that continued to spray out cold water in a large fountain-like motion. How so much water could come out of such a small bullet hole he'll never know. The bullet had punctured the toilet and several pipes within and around the toilet. The bullet was lodged in the wall where it met the floor. It was a miracle that it did not enter the condominium below.

Out of relief and several other emotions he hugged her tighter and brushed his lips quickly over hers. When he realized what he did he pulled away. He expected her to smack him, but she gently brushed her wet cold lips over his equally wet cold lips. She pulled away and laid her head on his shoulder. The fountain of cold water continuously soaking them.

"I don't know what to do, Callen." She cried in anguish and confusion. "It hurts so much."

"We'll figure it out together, but you've got to promise me," His voice cracked. "You've got to promise me that you will never ever. . ."

He couldn't finish the sentence. The thought alone hurt him. However, he didn't need to continue, because she knew what he could not say, what she could not do.

"I know, G." She whispered as she cried.. "I know. I promise. I promise. I promise. I couldn't do it, G. I...I...I just couldn't. Your face kept popping up every time I went to pull the trigger. I kept thinking about you, about how you would blame yourself, how you'd be disappointed in me, how you blame yourself for what happened to Mike, and how you'd ..."

He interrupted her and shushed her as he kissed her forehead repeatedly. "Shh...shh...shh..."

They held unto each other as a lifeline and in essence that's what they were to the other. They were each other's support system, lifeline.

They shuddered and shivered from the cold of the water, but Callen could not move, he refused to move. He was afraid that if he let her go that she would disappear or worse be dead.

He vaguely heard Rose's voice then oddly Deeks' yelling LAPD.

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_**Thank you for reading. I appreciate all of the readership, alerts, favorites, and reviews.** _


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Marty Deeks had his hands full, literally. His left hand held a small brown nondescript paper bag and a clear plastic bag emblazoned with the logo of a local Chinese Restaurant while in his right held a drink cartridge that held a smoothie and milkshake. His right arm was wrapped around a large brown nondescript paper bag which held a few basic groceries that he was in dire need of and a couple items of junk food that he'd normally wouldn't buy.

When he first heard the gunshot, he thought that he had imagined it, which signified to him that he needed to sleep and recharge his batteries, because one never 'imagined' to hear a gunshot in his line of work and continued to live. He was getting rusty. It had been only a millisecond of a delay in reaction for him to comprehend that he did not imagine the gunshot, but a millisecond could be the difference between life and death.

Calculatingly, he placed the bags and cartridge down to the floor and reached for his holstered weapon. He attempted to determine which condominium the gunshot had originated from as he made his way down the long hallway, but when he heard the distinct voice of his friend and Team Leader yelling the name Nell, Marty closed his eyes and realized that the gunshot originated from Nate and Rose's. And, that the young Intelligence Analyst had been the one shot at, at least that is what he hoped, that she had been shot _at_ and not shot.

Just as Marty was a foot away from the closed front door he heard someone round the corner fast. He turned with his weapon raised and saw a panicked Rose who said in a high pitched voice that she heard a gunshot when she was entering the elevator. Then, she kept repeating 'Oh My God,' 'I should've known,' and the rank Detective.

"Rose?" Marty said slowly as he lowered the weapon. They were losing precious time. "Breathe. Hand me your key."

She nodded as she took deliberate breaths and handed him her floral key chain. He needed to get into her Condominium, but he also needed to get her out of harms way. He took it and slowly said, "I need you to go to my place. Remember to lock it behind you and do not answer it unless it is one of my team, okay?" He placed his keys in her shaking hands. He asked, "Do you remember which one it is?"

She nodded ferociously, her panic was now replaced with fear.

"Okay," He said slowly to penetrate her fear and anxiety. "Kensi is asleep on the couch. I need you to wake her up and tell her to issue an Agent-In-Distress alert for both Nell and Callen, okay?"

She nodded ferociously. She ran down the hallway. Once he saw her enter his Condominium, he stepped forward toward the front door of Nate's and Rose's. He went to unlock the door to find that Rose had several keys on her floral key chain. He shook his head, he didn't have time to figure out which was which, but neither did he have the tools to pick it as the kit was on his kitchen counter. One by one he tried the keys that mostly looked the same. He felt as panicked as Rose had looked, but he had to keep his cool. Danger was a daily occurrence in his line of work and yet he hardly thought about it.

He hadn't felt this level of apprehension and fear in a while. He had never heard that apprehension and fear in Callen's voice. One word. One name relayed so many emotions. He unlocked the door quietly, but did not open it. He placed his back against the wall beside the door and only then did he slowly opened the door. He was uncertain what was on the other side of the door. He had heard one single gunshot, but that did not discount the possibility that there was more than one assailant. With his weapon raised, he cautiously and calculatingly entered the Condominium.

There was no side of struggle as far as he could tell, but he had only just entered. With his back flat against the wall, he slid across it, slowly and observed his surroundings. He heard a noise near the entrance of the Condominium and turned with his weapon poised to maim or kill.

"Rose!" He admonished as he half-lowered his weapon making sure that it was no longer pointed at the petite redhead.

"I'm sorry," She apologized in a high pitched voice. Her fear still clearly visible. "Agent Blye won't wake up, she keeps turning over, mumbling and snoring." Tears of fear and uncertainty fall from the corners of her blue eyes. "I don't know what to do, Detective Deeks."

Deeks placed his index finger against his lips signifying that what she need to do was be silent. "I need you to leave."

"No," Rose said firmly. She shook her head to emphasis it. "I am not leaving Nell. I should have known that this was going to happen. I should've stayed and helped her. Callen said that he would..."

A look of perplexing confusion crossed Marty's face. He felt as if he was missing an important element, several elements. "What are you talking about?"

"Nell, she's...she's going through a rough time." Rose paused, not wanting to betray a confidence, refusing to elaborate on what that rough time was or what caused it.

"Look," Marty said, losing his patience with the LAPD Medical Examiner not listening to him and now refusing to answer his question. He never had much patience for the woman in the best of circumstances, and this was definitely not one of those times. "Call Sam. Just call Sam tell him that we have a situation involving Callen at your place."

Rose fidgeted as she answered, semi-proud of herself for being a step ahead of the Detective, but fearful for what had happened to her friend. "I called Sam when Kensi wouldn't wake up and told him what you told me to tell Kensi. But, I don't know what to do now, Detective."

Marty inwardly sighed that at least the Agent-In-Distress had been issued. He said firmly, "I need you to go to my place and lock the door. Do you understand me?"

She nodded and quickly left. He shook his head as he thought that Nate deserved a medal of patience with that one.

"LAPD!" Marty shouted, his weapon poised. "LAPD!" He repeated. He then exhaled deeply when he heard Callen.

"Deeks! It's clear!" Callen bellowed. "Hallway beside the kitchen, last room on the left, attached bathroom."

Marty jogged as he followed Callen's directions. His weapon was half lowered, ready to be raised if needed. He entered the room and he stopped in his tracks when he saw the scene in front of him.

Both Callen and Nell were drenched from water that appeared to originate from the toilet, but Marty could not be certain as he was more preoccupied with the feeling that he was witnessing an intimate moment, an emotionally intimate moment between two people he had never connected, or had thought to connect them in _that _way, because it was _Nell _and _Callen_. And, yet it was clear to the Detective that there was _something _there, he just wasn't sure what _that_ something was. Marty looked away from the pair and stepped further into the bathroom to investigate further. Finally able to move, Callen took Nell into the guest room...Mike's room.

"Get me out," Nell sobbed, her cries strangling her. Her arms around his neck starting to strangle him. She was hyperventilating. His concerned continued to grow. "Get me out of here, Callen. Please!" She gasped for air. She shook her head ferociously. "I, I can't. I, I see him. I see him everywhere. I can't face hi-him. He, He's a-ashamed of m-me. He-he's mad. I can _feel _it, Callen. He's in so mu-much pa-pain."

Callen tightened his arms around her and entered the hallway. He walked down the hallway as she continued to cry, sob, yell, and repeat that Mike was ashamed of her, mad at her that she wasn't there with him, hadn't been with him at the hospital.

Not for the first, second, or even the third time he thought that Nate should be here.

That Mike should have lived and he, Callen, should have been the one who died.

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**Thank you for reading. I appreciate the readership, alerts, favorites, and feedback. Check out my profile for updates on updates as well as the poll question.**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

As Sam Hanna drove his Challenger well over the speed limit through the busy streets of Los Angeles, his jaw clenched and his eyes darted toward each of the mirrors alternatingly. An ambulance flew past him and he inwardly began to panic; the ambulance was for Callen, he just knew it.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and down the sides of his temples as he increased his speed to a dangerous level. He had received the crazed call from Rose Shwartz several minutes ago. He could not remember what he said to the panicked woman or exactly what the rambling Rose had said. However, the words agent in distress along with Callen and Nell's names had thrown him off kilter.

On auto-pilot, he had called Hetty and as soon as the words agent in distress were uttered, Hetty had taken a shuddering breath and asked which one. Callen _and _Nell had thrown her as well although she did not convey that fact, but Sam had known. It was almost expected for Callen to be in the midst of trouble and yet it was coddled denial that they all had about the duo of the intelligent young woman and the eccentric young man; they would never be touched by the dangers of their jobs. After all, the two geniuses were their watchers within a proverbial ivory tower.

He grimaced as he neared the building that housed both Nate and Deeks' condominiums. He could not do this again. He had barely scathed through with his psyche intact after Dom had been killed. Mike had been gone for three weeks and Sam had yet to face it head on. The tactics that Nate had taught him after Dom's death sometimes helped him to grieve, to understand what had happened to Mike, but mostly Sam ignored it all. If he didn't think about it, then it wasn't there. As bad as it sounded, Sam had gotten used to not having Mike around, because the younger man had been solo for years, a silent and invisible part of their team, his family. He could pretend that Mike was off on one of his solo operations that they mostly never heard about if he didn't face the reality that Mike was gone, that the man he knew would never return.

Callen, on the other hand, would not be someone that he could pretend was off on his own, if something happened to him. Although, Callen was a lone wolf, he was an intricate part of the team, the leader of the team, but more importantly a part of his family.

There were so many questions going through his mind and none of them had answers. The LAPD had blocked off a considerable amount of the parking lot and the front of the building. The ambulance was parked on the sidewalk in front of the building. He presumed that the building was in lock down; no one could enter or exit it, Sam knew the procedure, but he refused to follow it. Callen and Nell were in that building; not even a presidential order could stop him.

He stopped and parked the Challenger directly behind a squad car. He slung the door open. He sprinted pass the officer, obviously a rookie fresh out of the Academy, who was unsuccessfully attempting to control the crowd.

_"What's going on?"_

_"I live here."_

_"My parents own half of this building."_

_"What happened?"_

_"My darling pekinese is trapped in there. I knew I should've taken her with me to the salon."_

Sam flashed his credentials at the young cop as he sprinted pass, but it was an unnecessary action, because the rookie was overwhelmed with civilians. Sam shook his head as he lifted the yellow caution tape and ran toward the building.

"Woah, you can't go in there." Sam heard a deep baritone voice yell. "The building isn't secure. We're letting residents out, but no one goes in."

Sam ignored the warning, he felt someone grab his elbow and it took great control not to strike or apprehend the person out of instinct; seriously, Sam thought, anyone in law enforcement should know that the action the unknown cop had done could lead to something unfavorable.

"I said that the building isn't secure." The same deep baritone voice repeated.

"NCIS," Sam growled as he flashed his credentials. "My partner—"

But, Sam was prevented from continuing when he heard the familiar drawl of his 'desk buddy' as the younger man had coined them. Detective Marty Deeks called out, "Watch it, Maxwell, let him go. He's with me. Anyone else with NCIS comes, you let them in, got it?"

Maxwell, the owner of both the hand on Sam's elbow and the deep baritone voice, reluctantly did as he was told. He nodded reluctantly.

Sam rolled his shoulders as he approached Marty. Marty turned around and walked back into the building. Sam followed. The sound of the fire alarm was loud and shrill. They passed several of the residents and guests fleeing the lobby. The two men were silent until they reached the elevator. Several residents coming out of the stairwell gave the two men looks of confusion and disbelief; because, they all thought that everyone should know that one doesn't use an elevator during an evacuation due to a fire/fire alarm, and one certainly does not use it to go up.

"Deeks," Sam growled angry. "If you don't wipe the smile off your face, I'm going to do it for you."

"Sam, Sam, Sam," Marty replied as he stepped unto the elevator. When he turned he arched an eyebrow at a fuming Sam who had not yet stepped unto the elevator. "Are you coming? Callen needs you. I don't know how to handle him in this state and Kensi is in dreamland where Candy Land is real, how with this God awful fire alarm blaring, I don't know."

Sam glowered as he stepped unto the elevator. The doors closed behind him. Sam stepped into Deeks personal space, "How can you joke about something this serious?"

Marty was silent as he reached around Sam to hit the button for the correct floor.

Sam took a step back and said in realization, "You know something that I don't."

"Of course I do," Marty replied with a smile, that was forced, but he had become so accustomed to forcing a smile, that it looked genuine. "You've never taken the bar—"

Marty was prevented from continuing when Sam took him by the collar of his plaid button up shirt and shoved him against the wall of the elevator. "I swear," Sam warned.

"Sam," Marty said firmly. "He's okay...physically. I promise you. Callen is safe at Nate's. There's no perp. There's no threat."

Sam let him go and took a step backward. "Then why did Rose call me? Why is it a zoo downstairs? The evacuation? Rose said, agent in distress, and used Callen and Nell's names. How could Rose have known?"

"I'm sketchy on all the details," Marty replied as he rearranged his shirt. He shrugged when he realized that one of the top buttons was no longer there. "But I do know that something went down between Callen and Nell. Nell's a freaking basket case."

"You lost me." Sam replied. "How does an argument between Callen and Nell spiral into an agent in distress?" Sam sagged against the wall of the elevator relieved that it wasn't what he thought, that Callen wasn't being targeted. "What do you mean basket case?" Sam paused, "Wait, what in the hell are they doing at Nate's arguing?"

Marty shrugged. "Beats me man, but I don't think they were arguing, well I don't know what happened. I'm the one that told Rose to have Kensi issue the alert, but she called you when Kensi wouldn't respond. The reason for the alert was that I heard a gunshot and Callen scream Nell's name. I misinterpreted the situation, badly. Hetty's going to kill me for that."

"No," Sam said, relieved that it wasn't a true agent in distress alert. "You did the right thing, Deeks. You couldn't have known that it was a...what happened again?"

"I don't know, seriously." Marty answered, his tone relaying that the wished he did. "All I do know is that the gunshot came from Callen's gun and..."

"Or Nell's." Sam interrupted.

"Nell?" Marty said incredulously, distracting him from continuing to state what he did know. "Nell's got a gun?"

Sam rolled his eyes, "Of course she does, Deeks. Intelligence Analysts are issued a service weapon."

"Hmm," Marty said surprised. "I didn't know that."

"She was partnered up to you when Kensi was suspended, do you not remember that?" Sam asked, as he watched the lights above the elevator doors move from left to right. Why did Nate have to live so far up the skyscraper?

Marty shifted his weight and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand, "Well, there's not much about that particular case that I'd care to remember."

Sam nodded, "Understandable." He paused, "Other than the gunshot, what do you know? You mentioned earlier something about not handling Callen?"

Marty exhaled loudly, "I can't. I'm used to him being, well, Callen. But he's...he's being nice."

"Nice?" Sam retorted, his tone demanding elaboration.

"Yeah," Marty replied. "Nice as in tender and almost sweet."

"Callen sweet?" Sam snorted.

"I swear Sam." Marty replied then hesitated to ask what he wanted.

Sam noticed the hesitation, "Spit it out, Deeks."

"Is," Marty paused to clear his throat. "Is there something going on between Callen and Nell?"

Sam flinched. He was so worried about not allowing Mike's death to affect _him_, so worried about _Callen's _safety at the sound of the agent in distress, and so worried that he was going to _lose _Callen as they had Dom, Mike, and Hunter that he didn't think about how _Nell _was dealing, didn't think about her safety at the sound of the agent in distress, didn't think they'd lose Nell. Sam swallowed. He hadn't been worried about Nell, because he knew that Callen would handle it, handle her.

He hadn't thought about who would handle Callen, because Callen never needed to be handled. He always had it under control. Except, Sam knew that Callen didn't truly. The conversation they had earlier about Nell was the first time since Mike's death that Sam had verbally acknowledged what Mike had been to Nell. What Callen was trying to be to Nell...what Callen wanted to be.

"Sam?" Marty asked then rolled his eyes. "Admit what you know or don't, but I saw it. Nell is a freaking basket case that's crumbling and Callen is trying to hold her together. I can count on one hand how many times I've seen Callen lose it, and most of those times have been in the last month." Marty glanced upward in realization then at Sam. "Okay, you won't answer the question about Callen, I understand. But, answer this, what is Nell to Mike?"

Sam swallowed, "Mike? Why do you ask?"

Marty shook his head, "Look, I'm here to help. Whatever happened has something to do with Renko, how do I know? There's a freaking pictures of him all over a guest room, and there was one on the bathroom floor. And, most telling is that Nell is having what appears to be a nervous breakdown; Sam, she pleaded, pleaded with Callen to get her out, that she saw Mike everywhere, that Mike was mad at her, ashamed of her," Marty found a small amount of satisfaction in the flash of guilt that crossed Sam's face. Good, Marty thought, perhaps, he'll answer some of the questions. Marty continued, "Again, I ask what is going on with Callen and Nell? Rambling Rose knows more about what happened, but she isn't talking rationally. I've got my hands full up there. I've not let LAPD in Nate's. They're here more as an assistance to crowd control, right now, but we'll have to let them in eventually." Deeks paused as the sound of the fire alarm increased. "I swear, who's idea was it for the fire alarm?"

"Hetty's." Sam replied. "We didn't know what we were dealing with. Hetty wanted all civilians out of the building. Ty hacked into the buildings security system."

"Ty?" Marty repeated then remembered that he had been one of the support staff that he had once swindled money out of with his card tricks. "Oh, yeah, him. Where's Eric?"

Sam replied, "Probably was at the beach, but by now on his way or already at Ops. Callen gave us the rest of today off remember?"

Marty snorted, "Sure. Remind me of today the next time Callen does that, because I'll refuse to leave. I swear some of our cases haven't given me this much grief."

Sam nodded in agreement.

Finally, the elevator stopped and opened. The pair quickly made their way to Nate's. When they entered the Condominium and rounded the corner of the entrance way, they both stopped. The sight before them made both men grimace.


End file.
